


from ashes (she would become fire)

by tamedbanshee



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Feminist Themes, Gen, Minor Canonical Character(s), Vampire Slayer(s), background character level up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamedbanshee/pseuds/tamedbanshee
Summary: “We don’t sit here, lambs to the slaughter,” Penelope had told her daughter. “We do not wait for the wolves to come.”Angela listened.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	from ashes (she would become fire)

When the Cullens moved to Forks, her mom told her about the Basement. 

Martin Weber was a quiet but traditional man. He’d moved to their small town after sowing his wild oats, settled down with a nice woman, and gave her the children she’d always wanted. A daughter and their twin boys. They were told what was right, what was wrong and those small-town beliefs would linger. 

Isaac and Joshua didn’t seem to question what they were told, they soaked in every word. They were taught to be quiet, obedient, and pious. Maybe once upon a time, the lessons would’ve settled deep within Angela's bones but her mother was firm; the boys were raised with their father's ideals in mind but she was raised with her  _ mothers _ . 

Her mom, Penelope Weber née Lovett, had been born in Forks. 

As had her mother. 

As had her grandmother. 

A line unbroken. 

_ “We don’t sit here, lambs to the slaughter, _ ” Penelope told her daughter.  _ “We do not wait for the wolves to come.” _

For as long as she could remember the Basement had always had four locks that required keys, a deadbolt and a chain. Maybe it was a little excessive but she’d never questioned it. Whatever was down there wasn’t worth the effort. When Jess and Lauren asked about it, she’d shrug and tell them the dryer was down there because that was what her mom had told  _ her _ . 

Angela was fifteen when the Cullens moved to Forks. 

Moved  _ back _ to Forks, her mom had corrected her. 

“-I just don’t understand-?”

“How does anything happen, Angie?” Her mom shrugged as if it was just a fact of the universe: the sky was blue, the grass was green and the Cullens were vampires.  _ Cold Ones _ , to be precise. As much as her husband preached and spoke of the religious plans of the Lord, how they’d been created in their image… Angela couldn’t see how the Cullen’s factored into that. They were a distorted reflection, an abomination. 

“But-  _ but _ -”

Her mom’s officially lost it, how long has she been hiding her crazy?

“Think about it, sweetpea,” Penelope is strong in conviction. “Have you ever seen them eat at school?”

“Well,  _ no but- _ ”

“Drink?”

“No but-”

“Have you ever seen them in the blistering sunlight?” 

Angela blinked and her mom smiled. 

She gave her daughter a necklace, one that stunk to high-heavens of sage and whatever other herbs she could get her hands on. There was something solid and heavy and reassuring about its weight. The way it sat against her breastbone and the leather cord knotted at the base of her neck.

“It will protect your mind and spirit,” her mom told her. As if it was something normal and completely  _ sane _ to say. “It’ll hide you for their eyes, their gifts, making you practically invisible.”

Okay. 

So her mom was nine levels of crazy. 

Angela waited until the next day to tell Jess because she needed to talk to someone about it. Her dad would just flip his lid and her brothers couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended on it. Jess, as terrible of a gossip as she was, would hold onto whatever Angela said and take it to the grave. They were bound by the oath of pinkies. Whatever was said between them,  _ stayed _ between them. No Lauren, no Mike or Tyler or Ben. 

She’d sat down in the cafeteria and just as her mouth opened to spill the beans-

Angela had chanced a second-glance at the Cullen’s usual table. 

_ Was it the pale skin and ethereal glow? Was it the amber eyes that were almost predatory as they skimmed over their heads? Was it the gooseflesh that raised on the back of neck because of it? _

The words died in her mouth and they tasted like  _ ash _ .

Her mom was  _ crazy _ , right?

_ Right? _

A month after the Cullens moved  _ back _ to Forks, Angela found herself in the Basement by herself. 

Her mom had dropped Isaac and Josh off at a football practise before going to the store. Her dad was working late and it was perhaps one of the few times which Angela would have the house to herself. 

The keys dangled from a hook above the fridge. 

_ Taunting.  _

_ Knowing.  _

Angela didn’t question why the keys were there, instead, she stared down the narrow staircase in the shadows at the bottom. Had the steps always been that steep? The basement always that dark? Part of her hoped for disappointment, that all she’d find would be a dryer. 

“What the  _ fuuuuck _ ?” 

With the lights on, it was so much worse.

She stared at the tables laden with wooden stakes, with ancient tomes and the smell of strange herbs in the air. Not the kind which Angela knew like the back of her hand, the kind which kids smoked under the bleachers after school. No, the mortar and pestle abandoned, lavender and sage and copper hung in the air. The books opened, yellowed pages dogeared and battered with age; sketches of monsters with fangs and dark veiny eyes, passages about the Cold Ones and their diamond skin. Lapis Lazuli encrusted jewelry, crucifixes sharpened to a point, bottles of  _ holy water?  _

Angela closed her eyes and maybe she could hope that it was all a bad dream. 

Then again, in a horror film, this was about time the Cult returned and killed the intruder. She quickly opened her eyes, glancing over her shoulder like a monster from those very pages would come down the stairs. 

_ Maybe horror films with Jess and Lauren weren’t the  _ **_best_ ** _ idea _ .

The more she looked around, the more the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The obnoxious yellow sticky-note drawing her attention.

_ Read me, nosy daughter! _

Well, her mom knew her **too** well apparently. 

The diary was that of her great-something grandmother. She didn’t want to read her beautiful calligraphy, and she certainly didn't want to read how a man named Carlisle Cullen rocked up with his  _ coven _ . How they’d established a treaty with the Quileute and survived on the blood of animals. It was there, in black and white, written and dated and  _ signed _ . 

So why couldn’t it sink in?

One particular passage caught her eye. 

“ _ -unlike other species, the Cold Ones are resilient to physical damage. Their skin is that of hardened diamonds. Only those of courage and foolhardiness face them and dare to live. To survive, their heads must be ripped from their body, their remains set alight until ashes are all that are left- _ ”

* * *

Her mom might be crazy. 

Angela might be crazy too though. 

She smiled at the new girl, they’re both seventeen and she enjoyed their time together but was painfully aware of the stare which Edward Cullen burnt into the side of Bella’s head. The lighting wasn’t great in the cafeteria but she could still make out the flecks of gold in his eyes. 

“Who are they?” Bella had asked. 

“The Cullens,” Angela said quietly. “They keep to themselves.”

Angela tilted her head and watched them, watched Edward as he stared at  _ Bella _ . They’d never given her a second glance and whatever sorcery her mom had pulled out of the bag, she was blessed with. With the necklace, she might as well have been invisible to all of them. Never a word spoken and never a glance in her direction but then again, why would they?

To them, Angela was quiet, obedient, and pious. 

(Angela knew the moment their eyes turned red, her mom would unlock the Basement with the glee of a child on Christmas morning.)

_ “We don’t sit here, lambs to the slaughter, _ ” Penelope had told her daughter.  _ “We do not wait for the wolves to come.” _

Angela listened. 

“ _ We grit our teeth and we kill every last one of them. _ ”


End file.
